<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Paper Bodies by royaltyfreemusic</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713377">Paper Bodies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyfreemusic/pseuds/royaltyfreemusic'>royaltyfreemusic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Art, Bottom Eren Yeager, Explicit Sexual Content, How Do I Tag, Incest, M/M, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Stalking, Teacher Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Levi Ackerman, Violence, one-sided zekeren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:02:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyfreemusic/pseuds/royaltyfreemusic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A budding teenager, raised by bloodstained hands and pointed knives, grapples with three fundamental truths -- he loves art as much as his brother loves the sound of crushing bones; his brother will stop reeking of death when the sun goes cold; and, he must take his brother’s place when the time comes. That is the fate of Eren Jaeger. However, wiser men know that fate is fickle. He meets a man, broken and jagged as he is, in the form of his teacher, and learns, through longing glances and warm touches, the malleability of truths. </p>
<p>or: Eren, tangled in the life of his serial killer of a brother, seeks refuge in his arts teacher.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eren Yeager/Zeke Yeager, Levi Ackerman/Eren Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paper Bodies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!!! This is my first riren fic ever, so I'm excited to share it with y'all. Please forgive me if I commit any mistakes; English isn't my first language teehee. </p>
<p>Thank you for giving this fic a try!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maria is a sprawling town, known for its bustling life and good food. At its kernel is a tiny, congested site of commercialized area known as Shiganshina. The district, beset with restaurants, shops, parks, and astir passersby, is a spectacle of Maria, becoming the prime destination of many local tourists. Among the citified areas of Shiganshina rests a small, isolated patch of landscape, riddled with autumn trees and trailing grass. Canopied by towering maple trees, a small house sits at the base. </p>
<p>A hunched figure, lounging upon a tree stump, is nursing a sketchbook. Lean fingers grazing over traces of graphite, the young man stares, with growing scrutiny, at what seems to be a self-portrait.</p>
<p>It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.</p>
<p>The roundness of his eyes, the soft curve of his nose, the plumpness of his cheeks untouched by puberty, and the pudginess of his lips -- it’s all wrong. Yet, he can’t pinpoint his mistake. Amateur eyes would shower him unwarranted compliments, would tell him, no, no it looks great actually! But he’s far beyond an amateur. The slight bump on his middle digit, abused from experience, tells you that. He closes the sketchbook in tad frustration. </p>
<p>To placate himself, he pays a visit to the urban areas of Shiganshina where the buzz of life never fails to ease his tantrums. He revels in the rush of warmth, in the sound of children hopping to and fro, in the chatter of strangers. Reposing himself by the bench, he whips out his sketchbook and continues to give himself due criticism. To be fair, he rarely looks at his own reflection, so of course he’d be quite shit at drawing himself. </p>
<p>Accepting defeat, the young man looks elsewhere. Surprised to have set his eyes on a waitress, he quickly takes notice of the apparent similarities between the woman and himself, uncannily so -- brown hair, tanned skin, teal eyes. He surreptitiously steals glances, so as not to seem a creep, as he uses the woman as reference. Yet his labor has been all for naught. His sketch looks less impressive than before. </p>
<p>Yet another failure among many others. He hopes his mess of a work would mollify Hange, his jaunty arts teacher who pestered him into joining their small club of student artists. A sigh escapes his lips. He leans back and looks straight ahead into webs of power lines. Between its spaces, the horizon pockets the setting sun. He flutters his eyes close. </p>
<p>Zeke will be home soon.</p>
<p>Then the realization dawns on him. </p>
<p>He forces his eyes open. Striking the pavement and bumping into some onlookers, he scrambles to his house. He glances at his watch. Fifteen minutes before six. Almost late. He silently reprimands himself for slacking off.</p>
<p>Rubbing his boots on the mat, he welcomes himself to the warmth of his home. He is greeted by the sight of maroon walls, brimmed with abstract paintings and family photographs, an unwashed couch, and an outdated TV. He peers at the kitchen and dining area, small but cluttered. All of this congested into one, undivided room. He takes in the scene -- the residence of a busy yet loving older brother who works at the local bookstore and his awkwardly innocent younger brother who keeps to himself. </p>
<p>But it is no secret to the young man that the warmth of this house is kept alive by the bodies beneath it. He stands on the grave of many, and he knows this fully well, but a house reeking of death is his to keep. </p>
<p>The sound of familiar footsteps makes itself known before a foreign click-clacking, most likely of a young woman’s, joins in harmony. The young man runs to his room. He flops onto his bed, stashes his sketchbook to the side, and stares at the ceiling, drab and dusty like the rest of his room. He grabs his phone and looks at nothing in particular.</p>
<p>“Eren, you home?” his brother’s voice echoes from the living room. “I have a visitor over.”</p>
<p>His bedroom door creaks, revealing his brother who’s wearing a bright red flannel, akin to the skin of a dangerous predator, and, much to Eren’s surprise, the waitress from earlier. Eren turns slightly to them. </p>
<p>“Her name’s Dahlia. Come on,” he beckons the lass to show herself. “Isn’t she a pretty thing?”</p>
<p>Dahlia visibly blushes. Eren nods, still processing. She looks prettier up close, and a realization clicks again. Zeke always brings in girls of similar physique, always brunette, always teal-eyed. Eren has never questioned it however, and tucks this observation to the back of his head as he frequently does.</p>
<p>Having thought of his noncommittal response as rejection, Dahlia pulls at the older man and whispers, “Zeke, I told you it’s too soon.”</p>
<p>“Teenagers, you know how they are,” Zeke reassures her. “Don’t worry about it.” </p>
<p>Zeke slowly closes the door as they both exit. Eren often pays his brother’s flings no mind, doesn’t give them much attention. After all, one doesn’t befriend cattle. But a feeling, much similar to guilt, has slowly been making its way to Eren. He brushes it off. Soon, in about an hour, he will find himself cleaning up after Zeke, and much sooner, he will be taking after Zeke. </p>
<p>Like a clockwork, Eren steps outside, secures himself a shovel, and starts digging. The nagging feeling has yet to subside. He shouldn’t feel for these women. There is no point. </p>
<p>“Life has no meaning, Eren. To think that we’re more than what nature expects of us is hubris. All this nonsense about the meaning of life and our reasons for being… That will be the death of our species,” Zeke would tell him. “<i>Omnia mors aequat.</i>”</p>
<p>Death equals all things.</p>
<p>The first memory Eren has is that of blood and violence, never towards himself but to others. He knows of his idiosyncrasies, the way he appears standoffish compared to other children. His absent parents for one was a hot topic among gossipers, but people eventually started to forget. His charming older brother was enough for the both of them to save face. From then on Eren learns how to conceal his unique tendencies. </p>
<p>At the tender age of nine, Eren bore witness to murder. Two years later, he was an accomplice to one. Zeke acts, and Eren enables. </p>
<p>“You have the same eyes as me, the same affinity for madness,” Zeke would tell him. “You’re not like other people, Eren. You’re special.”</p>
<p>All Eren’s known is red ever since.</p>
<p>Eren hears his brother call out to him from the doorway. He follows him to the set of stairs leading to the basement, ever familiar, as his eyes dart to Dahlia, who is surprisingly alive and very much afraid. Gagged and strapped to a stretcher, Dahlia appears bruised all over, eyes almost resigned. Zeke, in all his raincoat glory, stands firmly and motions Eren to move closer. Eren stops at a certain distance as he finally grasps the feeling that has been bugging him all this time.</p>
<p>He feels… pity. </p>
<p>Dahlia looks at him. Teal to teal. It’s a shame.</p>
<p>Breathlessly Zeke says, “Observe.”</p>
<p>Eren flinches as his brother repeatedly bashes Dahlia’s skull with a baseball bat. Blood and brain matter splatter instantaneously. Dahlia’s face is no longer distinguishable. Eyes unmoving and unbothered, Eren ponders at the sight. Zeke appears gentlemanly, yet he chooses the most brutish way to kill. His brother is a very eccentric man, among other things. </p>
<p>A couple of blows later, Eren dons his own raincoat and transports the pulp of blood and flesh into a garbage bag. Using a steam cleaner, he finishes ridding the room of unwanted matter. Eren moves outside, carrying the bag with him, and, with noticeable gentleness, lowers the bag into the burial hole. Standing, he looks down at his and his brother’s work. If he were any religious, he’d say his prayers here. </p>
<p>But he is not. </p>
<p>So he watches in silence.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>